


exile, vilify

by mackdizzy



Series: Sleepy Boys [2]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), THIS IS NOT RPF IN ANY CAPACITY., Video Blogging RPF, dream team smp
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dream Team SMP Setting (Video Blogging RPF), And in case you missed it so far, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dream Smp, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, THIS IS NOT RPF IN ANY CAPACITY. - Freeform, UP TO DATE / CONTAINS SPOILERS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:22:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28989192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mackdizzy/pseuds/mackdizzy
Summary: Techno puckers his lips, the way that always makes him look oppressive but catches his fangs on his upper lips sharp enough to bleed. “Sure. Lots’a times.”“Most scared you’ve ever been?”𝘏𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴, 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘬𝘯𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘱𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘦. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴.“I’d have to think about that one, kiddo.”[Dream SMP. Sleepy Boys Inc. FICTION / NOT RPF ]
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF) (past), Once again can i stress that this is NOT RPF., Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Sleepy Boys [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2134461
Comments: 18
Kudos: 175





	exile, vilify

**Author's Note:**

> one last time, the 5th time, in fact--THIS IS NOT RPF. fictionalized dream SMP universe. If you wanna read fic about the content creators, this is not what this is.
> 
> that being said. I have brainrot, and it had to come out. Sleepy Boys Inc. takes up literally 99.9% of my brain capacity right now, and it was coming out somehow, someway. This was super fun to write, to figure out how minecraft mechanics translated enough into the 'real world' this fic takes place in. I think I did alright for my first time, and I'm excited to write more for the SMP in the future, exploring these characters and the world they live in.
> 
> [Technoblade is contained in the sleepy boys inc. dynamic in this fic, as its usual fanon layout.]
> 
> [CW: this fic contains realistic (as realistic as I can get with my knowledge and effort) portrayals of Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder left over from Tommy's exile period. They're pretty prevalent, so if you are triggered by that sort of content, I wouldn't recommend reading this one. ]
> 
> [No shipping. I hope that was obvious.]

Sunrise is not the same as it used to be. The golden hues the floating orb casts seem to burn with an array of hope, maybe moreso than it had shone in weeks. Tommy sits beside Technoblade on the ledge, his tiny legs swinging to the beat of Mellohi. Techno never got why he liked this one so much; it’s melodious, sure, but a bit ominous, too. Oppressive. Music was always his twin’s thing, anyways; Techno isn’t very good at describing it, just knowing how it makes him feel.

“You scared?”

The question comes from Tommy, and Techno has to admit it matches the mood of the music. After considering for a moment, he just shrugs, placing his hands behind him and leaning back on them. “Nah.” He shakes his head. “Dream’s in jail, L’manberg’s no more. You’ve got Mellohi.” He adds, gesturing to the jukebox. “Sam’s got things under wraps, Tommy. Nothin’ to be worried about.”

Tommy just snorts. “You _ever_ been scared?”

Techno puckers his lips, the way that always makes him look oppressive but catches his fangs on his upper lips sharp enough to bleed. “Sure. Lots’a times.”

“Most scared you’ve ever been?”

_There’s a rattling in one of Techno’s cupboards, and since there’s no-one around to see it, he’ll admit that the noise makes him jump. His mind jumps through worst-case-scenarios; a tracking device? A ticking time bomb? The back of his mind tells him it’s probably just a mouse, and his instincts flare up to_ _hunt ,_ _but he restrains, cracking his knuckles and throwing the cupboard door open with a suspicious glare. He’s not ready for what he finds._

“I’d have to think about that one, kiddo.”

“C’mon, Techno. Give me something, here.”

_It’s his brother, his baby brother, his knees pressed to his chest, his arms wrapped around them. His hands are balled into shaking fists and he_ _screeches,_ _not like a scared kid but animalistic, snaps his teeth. Techno won’t have any of that; this is his house, first and foremost. He grunts and props the cupboard open with one shoulder, using both his hands to a-little-more-aggressively-than-he-should clutch Tommy’s trembling wrists. “Hey.” He barks. The effect isn’t what he wants; Tommy thrashes like a hurt animal, struggling against his grip. “Hey.” Techno says, softer, suddenly choking in one gasp of air, then another, like he can’t get it into his lungs fast enough, like he’s about to join Tommy’s hyperventilating tyrade himself. “Hey.” Techno repeats, trying to keep a hold on his cognitive logic as the world crumbles around him. “It’s okay.”_

Jesus Christ. _The Blade thinks._ It’s up to me.

  
  


“Uh, I dunno.” He clears his throat, tucks a few strands of hair back into their braid where they belong. “Almost bein’ executed is up there.”

_Tommy’s running something dastardly, Techno can deduce from the back of his hand burning up against his forehead, so he holds out his arms, curling his hands in a beckoning motion. Tommy doesn’t resist being picked up fireman style, just ragdolls against his shoulder. Techno can feel his own shoulder twisted out of place; Christ almighty, he feels so_ _small._

_Into Techno’s haphazard bed in the corner he goes; thank whoever’s up there that Techno has an ice block left; he crushes about a third of it up, throwing the shards into a pouch and putting it against his forehead. That’s about the best he knows how to do; Philza was the doctor of the household, and when he wasn’t around, Wilbur. But nobody’d seen Philza in months, and Wilbur--_

_Techno spends the night awake, crouched at the foot of the bed, ready to attack in case something goes horribly wrong._

_Nothing does, of course._

“Really? ‘Dyou think you were gonna die?”

“Totems aren’t perfect, Tommy.” Techno admits. “Shit happens.”

_Nothing goes wrong, but that doesn’t mean anything is right, either. They’re making their way home one day--God, but Techno has to teach Tommy_ _stealth_ _all over again--when they pass a pool of lava, and Techno doesn’t realize until almost a mile later that he’s left Tommy behind in the snow, staring at the stream with a wild, frantic look in his eyes. Techno tries to get his attention three separate times, first by speaking in as gentle a tone as he can muster, then speaking a little louder; when that doesn’t work he huffs, annoyed, and grabs Tommy’s arm, and he thrashes again, hyperventilating and shouting and punching. It’s not long before he draws his sword, and_ _god_ _is his technique sloppy, but Techno lets him get the blade under his chin if that will make him feel any better. It does, and that’s the first incident._

_Not the last._

“You’ve gotta have a plan.” Techno mutters, furrowing his eyebrows. The sun is higher, now, his glasses starting to tint to keep their reflective light off. Techno never lets himself be blinded by something as trivial as the sun; _a plan._ “Always have a plan. You don’t get scared that way.” 

_There is no plan for incidents. Techno does what he has always done; adapt, adapt, adapt. He puts the weapons away, stops fighting where food is not concerned. Where the food_ _is_ _concerned, his hunting skills sharpen, if just to burn off the edges. Otherwise, he focuses on Tommy, on bedtime stories and new things to teach him and, when his wings start coming in, potions. Tommy, like Techno, is not quite human, but unlike Techno, it only comes out in the cracks. Techno hopes these wings will be the start of something bigger. Maybe one day, Tommy will fly._

_There is no plan, just a weapon forced to become a human again. He hates being human, he hates admitting he_ _cares,_ _much less cares this goddamn much, But it’s the closest thing to a plan he’s got._

“You know so much about everything.” Is all Tommy responds after an agonizing period of silence, looking down at his bandaged hands, and Techno bites back a laugh.

_One night, nothing is enough. Techno doesn’t mean to snap; he comes up from the basement to the chill of a door left open and some monster in the house, he can’t even remember which one. It’s dead within moments, but this is_ _ his space. _ _“You left the door open!” He snaps. “God, you’re useless sometimes; you’re lucky I’m around, you know that?”_

_He doesn’t mean it. He doesn’t even realize he doesn’t mean it, though, until Tommy is clinging to the lapels of his cape like a limpet, trembling hard enough to almost knock Techno off his feet. “Don’t_ _go._ _” Tommy babbles before Techno even has time to steady them. “Don’t leave, please don’t leave, Techno, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I won’t do it again, Techno I’m sorry, please don’t leave--”_

_Balking, Techno just places one hand in Tommy’s hair, the other one inching down his back. It’s an awkward gesture, a hug given by a man who doesn’t know how to give one. Tommy cries and cries and cries and_ _ cries, _ _for what might’ve been hours, and they end up on the floor against the wall for most of that night, Tommy pressed against Techno’s chest and crying still. “It’s okay.” Techno says, stinted and awkward, every time Tommy tries to apologize. He apologies himself to sleep, and that’s where they stay._

_Two weeks later, a door to a much nicer house opens. On one side of the door is another version of Tommy, older and level and wise, wings large and majestic instead of tiny and laced with growing pains. Wings that know how to fly._

_“I’m scared.” Says The Blade on the other side. “Philza, I’m so fucking scared.”_

“I don’t know anything.” Techno mumbles, his shades losing some of their tint as the sun peaks overhead, the view of the horizon steadying. Mellohi’s notes wind to an end, and it _feels_ like an end. It feels finite. “Tommy, I don’t know half the shit you think I do.”

“So….what are we gonna do now?”

“I dunno.” Techno mutters, considering this conversation done with a stretch. He hauls Tommy to his feet. 

“I went to the prison yesterday.” Tommy blurts out of nowhere, and Techno isn’t even sure why he’s telling him this, but he’s oddly happy he has.

“Yeah?” Techno laughs, void of bitterness like they usually are. “How was it? Scary?”

“Nah.” Tommy absolutely beams, and Techno knows he’s going to soar. 

**Author's Note:**

> this is the part where i fish for comments! yay!!! but genuinely, guys, I hope you enjoyed this, and I'd love some feedback in case anyone is reading it. Hope you all have a nice day!


End file.
